Harry Potter and the War of Light and Dark
by JoesephThomasIIII
Summary: Harry disapears over the summer between fourth and fifth year. Before you say "Been Done Before" I promise that this will be something like you have NEVER read before. Just give it a few chapters. Please Review.


Harry Potter does not belong to me. Some names and even descriptions may be taken from other works, none of which I own either. There will be no crossovers, just names of people and possibly places or weapons used.  
  
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Harry Potter and the Battle of Light and Dark  
  
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Chapter One:  
  
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Beginnings  
  
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The time has come. Darkness has too great a strangle hold on our precious world. Too long has it corrupted the hearts of man and beast. The dark has broken its side of the treaty that ended the Great War. Now the War must begin again. Evil has its general already. The Dark General is already fighting us indirectly. Now we must take the offensive and strike, before it is too late. Our general has been chosen, but is not yet ready. Yet in his heart he knows the future that awaits him. We must make him ready.  
  
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In a perfectly respectable neighborhood, in a perfectly respectable town, lived a perfectly normal family. There was absolutely nothing strange about them. Every member of the family was perfect. Or so they liked to think.  
  
Petunia Dursley was tall and had two horrible habits. One was snooping. One could not count on any wall, closed door, or closed window to protect anything said or done from her. The other was terribly spoiling her son, Dudley.  
  
Vernon Dursley was shorter and round. He had a temper and blamed anything and everything on someone else, usually the same particular person.  
  
Dudley Dursley could be described as a large teenager, but that wouldn't give you the foggiest clue about him. No, he wasn't large; he was massive. It took nearly a year and a half of an extremely oppressive diet just for him to actually be able to fit through a door. He was also terribly spoiled. He could easily get a computer, TV, video games, movies, a bike, and a watch for a birthday. Worse yet, all he had to do was complain that it was less than the previous year, and he would get two or three more gifts. That summer, he had managed to work the number up to seventy-six.  
  
Then there was the one that they considered abnormal. He was little more than slave labor to them. He was a pain, a pest, and until he turned eleven, he was made to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. He was Petunia's deceased sister's son. He was a freak to them. He wasn't allowed to talk about anything that he was interested in. He wasn't allowed to go outside unless doing chores, and wasn't allowed to leave the property unless he was running and errand for Petunia, or going to Mrs. Figg's house. He had to Mrs. Figg's house when the Dusley's went somewhere fun, such as the movies, dinner, London. They didn't trust Harry not to destroy their house.  
  
However, while they may not have been right in the way they treated Harry, they were right in the fact that he was not a normal teenager. Normal teenagers didn't have nightmares like the ones that Harry had. Normal teenagers didn't see friends murdered by the same monster that murdered Harry's mother and father years earlier. Normal teenagers didn't send letters by owl or carry a wand.  
  
Harry Potter was a wizard. Or rather he was a wizard in training. He was a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had one of the best brooms (as in for flying) on the market. He was arguably the best seeker that the school had ever seen. He was also a Tri-Wizard Tournament Champion and Winner.  
  
Voldermort, more commonly known as You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and The Dark Lord, was a dark wizard that murdered countless witches and wizards during the nineteen seventies. However, when he came to the Potter House, known as Godric's Hollow, he encountered something that none before him had.  
  
The killing curse was perfect at killing. It left no physical proof that the victim had been murdered. It was unblock-able, and moreover no one ever survived it. Until, that is, Harry Potter. Voldermort's own curse turned against him and destroyed his body. It didn't kill him, not strictly, but his body was destroyed and his soul forced to wander.  
  
As an eleven-year-old, first year student at Hogwarts, Harry managed to keep Voldermort from getting the Philosopher's Stone. The stone, commonly known to be able to turn lead into gold, also produced the elixir of life, which would grant immortality to the drinker.  
  
During his second year, Harry saved Ginny Weasley, sister of Harry's best friend, Ron Weasley, from the Chamber of Secrets, and a memory-made-real of Voldermort as a teenager.  
  
His third year he saved his wrongly accused Godfather, who hadn't even been given a mock trial, from a fate worse than death at the hands of dementors, creatures that could literally suck the soul out of a human's body.  
  
During his forth year, he was the Tri-Wizard-Tournament Champion. However, the object that was the objective of the final task was actually a port key, a device used to magically send a person from one point to another. Voldermort killed Cedric, a friend who was also a Tri-Wizard Champion, after both had touched the trophy at the same time. Voldermort's servant, the man who had really betrayed Harry's parents and framed Sirius (Harry's god father), used Harry's blood as part of a potion to restore Voldermort's body. Voldermort used his new body to torture Harry.  
  
Harry had spent the few weeks since his escape and the end of the school year in pain. He blamed himself for Cedric's death. His nightmares constantly caused him pain and sorrow, caused his scar (the mark left by the killing curse as a baby) to hurt, and worse, they woke up the Dursleys who would beat him until he fell unconscious.  
  
But now, none of it matters. Harry has been missing for nearly five months. The start of school, the first quiditch game of the year, and even Halloween has passed. All of Harry's friends are worried sick. Voldermort is once again terrorizing all of Europe. The English Minister of Magic has been replaced. Fudge was warned of Voldermort's return, but not only deigned it, but failed to pass the warning along to those who would have determined it to be accurate. Arthur Weasley, at the recommendation of Professor Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, has been named interim Minister, and is expected to run when the elections come.  
  
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Harry had no idea where he was. He had been in the cupboard under the stairs. Then everything went black. He assumed it was from another of Uncle Vernon's beatings. But when he awoke he was most definitely not in the cupboard. The cupboard didn't have room for a very large, very comfortable four-poster bed.  
  
Harry sat up and noticed that instead of the much to large, Dudley hand down clothing that he had been wearing, he was now wearing sweat pants and a form fitting tee shirt. Pulling back the curtain around the bed, Harry found himself in a room larger than any bedroom he had ever seen.  
  
The room was roughly a rectangle whose long walls were twice as long as the short sides. The bed was centered on one of the short walls. Each of the four corners held a large fireplace. The room was sure to be very comfortable on cold nights. The opposite, short side, was nothing but a huge window. The curtains were still drawn, so he didn't yet know what the view held. Like the Gryfindor Tower common room, there was a sitting area, large enough eight or nine to be comfortable, around the left fireplace on the window wall.  
  
Near the other fireplace (on that side of the room) was a desk and chair, and the entire wall to the right was covered in bookshelves. Some of the shelves contained books. Others pictures, trophies, antiques, and other keepsakes were also on the bookshelves. Also, quite noticeably, were weapons.  
  
The only break in the bookshelves was a door, right in the center of the wall. Harry opened it and found himself in a bathroom. Everything was white marble, with some black granite to contrast. All the features were in gold. Harry was somewhat amused to find that the bath portion was set up like a Roman bath. In one room was a cold pool. In that room was also a bench to sit on and oil oneself down. In the next was a warm room with a warm pool. The third and final was extremely hot, with nearly scalding water.  
  
After bathing, Harry returned to the bedroom to find a wizards robe waiting. It was blue, red, gold, and silver. Merlin's colors, Harry noted. Looking around again, Harry noticed two more doors. One, next to the bed, went into a large, walk in closet. The other was rather grand looking, Harry assumed that it lead to the rest of the castle.  
  
As Harry stood looking at the grand door, it suddenly opened. A man who looked to be about fifty years of age walked in.  
  
"Good morning, Lord Merlin. I am ready to start my training." Harry said with a slight bow.  
  
"By the gods, they said you would know in your heart, but didn't tell me anything about you actually KNOWING." Merlin said in shock.  
  
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It was really amazing how much time could pass on Avalon with almost none at all passing in the real world. The real world was where Harry would soon return. He had been with the twelve on Avalon for so long.  
  
"Nearly seventeen years." Harry whispered to himself.  
  
He was going to miss Avalon. But now he had a job to do. And what a job it was. Unite the wizarding world with the muggle world. Train an army to fight pure evil. Return to friends that he hadn't seen in seventeen years. Face the stares of all those who still, despite Voldermort's return, blamed him for Cedric's death. Even worse, for Voldermort's return. He had been watching the real world, and knew that it was true. People blamed him.  
  
Interestingly, he hadn't aged at all in seventeen years. He had grown taller, gained muscle, and his hair was now controllable. But other than that, his physical appearance hadn't changed much at all, so he wasn't worried about physically fitting in at Hogwarts. It was the education that worried him. He could teach any of the teachers more than any of them could teach any student.  
  
His powers dwarfed any that he had ever even heard of. Now, he could defeat Merlin himself in a duel. Even with is eyes closed, his hands tied behind his back, and a pair of headphones blasting sounds of things exploding into his head. Merlin, however, was only one of the twelve to train him.  
  
The twelve were all his teachers, and also family. You can't spend seventeen years with an exclusive group of people and not be family to them. Not to mention that they had spent countless years before Harry came becoming a family. Godric Gryfindor, Helga Hufflepuf, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin were also among the twelve. Arthur Pendragon (yes, that Arthur Pendragon - King Arthur) was also there, as was Morgana.  
  
History seems to warp arguments into wars. Salazar and Godric did have an argument once, and it was while drunk. The chamber of secrets belonged to Salazar's nephew, who had a problem with muggles and muggle born witches and wizards. Morgana and Merlin did fight, but it was their son that caused the real problems. He was the one that decided that he wanted to be Arthur, and therefore tried to take the kingdom, and more importantly, tried to take Excalibur. Just because Morgana cast a few spells to keep her son from dieing, history labeled her as an enemy of Merlin. It was completely unfair.  
  
The other five members of the twelve were not that well know. Saria was, somehow, eternally a child. She was born on Avalon, and probably couldn't leave it if she tried. At more than six thousand years old, real world time, she was the oldest on the island, save Oberon and Tatiana themselves, but they didn't have much to do with Harry or the twelve. Another was known as Pyro. He was a sailor, who also had limited knowledge of magic. That limited knowledge saved him when captured and forced to walk the plank by pirates. He was roughly two hundred, real world time. He was good for stories and a drinking buddy. Setsuna was a Japanese witch. Kieara (pronounced Key-Are-A) was a dragoness cursed to be human. Lastly, but not least, was Aaron. He was Godric and Rowena's son.  
  
Bidding everyone farewell, he stepped into the gate and back into the real world.  
  
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Hogwarts was holding a masquerade ball for Christmas. No one had been allowed to leave for vacation, it was just too dangerous, and so everyone was there. Harry hadn't told anyone that he had returned. His face masked, like everyone else, he started to mingle. Finally, he found her.  
  
During his fourth year, he had a thing for Cho. But in the years since then, he started thinking about someone else more and more. Especially when he looked in on the real world. Ron was among those that actually blamed Harry for Voldermort's return. Hermione, though not nearly as resolutely as her boyfriend, agreed with him. She however seemed to do it just because Ron did.  
  
It was Ginny that stayed on his side. And it was Ginny that he had been thinking of. Now, there she was, standing at the wall.  
  
Harry approached and bowed very slightly.  
  
"May I have this dance?"  
  
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Slowly over the evening, Ginny found herself wanting to know more and more who the man she was dancing with was. When she was young, she had a hero crush on The Boy Who Lived. When she met him, nothing changed. But when she started to get to know him, the hero crush turned into a real crush, not on the Boy Who Lived, but just on Harry. But now, this stranger was making her feel even more. She didn't know how it could be, but she was in love.  
  
He led her out into a small courtyard that she had never seen before. Together they sat down on a bench.  
  
"Ginny."  
  
His voice was soft. It was gentile. It was full of love. It was . . .  
  
Suddenly it hit her.  
  
"Harry?" She whispered.  
  
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This seemed to be a good place to stop. Not a huge cliff hanger, but a cliff hanger non the less.  
  
Tell me I am the next Rowling, Tolken, or Dickens. Tell me that I'm ok. Tell me that your French poodle could write a better story by doing its business on a keyboard. Tell me about your stories, about your vacation, about your trip to the store. Just tell me something. Please Review. 


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